


Shut Up, Stiles

by thnksfrthwilliam



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, preslash, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-04
Updated: 2012-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-09 04:55:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thnksfrthwilliam/pseuds/thnksfrthwilliam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sorta preslash Sterek fic in which Stiles gets injured and Derek is a good little werewolf.<br/>I meant to just try my hand at a short little Teen Wolf ficlet and ended up with a fic that was nearly 1000 words. I might continue it later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shut Up, Stiles

Stiles groaned as he limped back to his Jeep. He had played first line tonight (thanks to a horrible bout of stomach flu that got most of the regular players sick) and a 6’10” forward had knocked Stiles to the ground and landed on his ankle. Ms. McCall had deemed it sprained, but Stiles was sure it was more than that because there was no way a sprain could hurt so damn much. He caught the side of his Jeep, gasping and panting like he had just walked fifty miles rather than fifty yards from the lacrosse field to the parking lot. It was going to be a difficult few weeks, he could already tell.

He leaned his forehead on the blue metal, taking a few deep breaths and trying to collect himself. A hand on his shoulder startled him out of his relaxation. He nearly fell over when he whipped around to see who it was, but a pair of strong arms was there to set him upright again.

“God damn it, Derek- warn a guy, will ya?”

Derek shrugged.

“I said your name, you didn’t reply. I needed to check that you hadn’t gotten yourself killed.”

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“How sweet. I sprained my ankle during the game. I’m fine, _honey_.”

Derek made a face at the pet name- not quite a smirk, but not a sneer either. Stiles counted it as a win seeing as Derek hadn’t ripped out any of his internal organs with his claws. The werewolf looked him over, far too scrutinizing for Stiles’ taste.

“I saw. You took a nasty fall. I’ll drive you home,” Derek said, already reaching for Stiles’ keys.

“No- dude, I can drive myself. Don’t patronize me because you’re a big scary Alpha now.”

Derek’s expression shifted more towards the smirk side of the spectrum.

“Not with your ankle the way it is, you’re not.”

Stiles grumbled, looking down at his swollen ankle. Derek was right, of course- there was no way he could drive safely with an injury like that.

“Fine- just don’t hurt my baby,” he said, handing over the keys and limping to the passenger side.

Derek slid into the driver’s seat and waited until Stiles was situated before starting off towards Stiles’ house.

“You didn’t have to do this, y’know- I’m not part of your pack, you don’t have any obligation to me,” Stiles mumbled after a few minutes of silent driving, looking down at his ankle to avoid looking at Derek.

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“I mean- I’m just a human who happens to be friends with werewolves. I’m really not worth the trouble and you don’t need-“

“Shut up, Stiles.”

And there was that growl that _did things_ to Stiles. The younger boy shut his mouth, cheeks flushing a little at his own reaction.

Derek smirked again, that smug bastard.

He pulled the Jeep into the driveway (too quickly for Stiles’ taste- his car needed to be treated with respect, even by shithead werewolves) and got out. Stiles struggled to get out himself, managing only to open the door before literally fall into Derek’s waiting arms.

“I thought you might do that,” Derek said as he helped him stand up again.

“I hate you,” Stiles muttered as he yanked the keys from Derek’s hand.

“No, you don’t.”

Derek looked him over for a few more seconds before beginning to walk back in the direction of the woods. Stiles, the upstanding person with the manners of a saint that he was, called out a quick ‘thank you, darling’ in the girliest voice he could muster before limping up to his front door. His dad was already waiting in the den for him.

“Derek Hale drove you home? Stiles, you know how I feel about him.”

“I sprained my ankle, dad. He was just being a good little former murder suspect. He’s a dick-“

“Language, Stiles.”

“He’s a _jerk_ , but he’s okay sometimes, I guess.”

His father didn’t look too convinced, but he dropped the subject. Stiles sighed, doing his best ‘put upon injured kid’ impression.

“Are you done with the third degree now, dad?”

The sheriff nodded. “You should get some ice for that ankle, Stiles.”

Stiles hobbled over to the kitchen and grabbed a bag of peas from the freezer.  He brought them up to his room (which was harder than it looked when he had to use both hands just to get up the stairs) and settled in his bed, placing the cold package on his injury.

The peas ended up halfway across his room (still in the bag, thank god) when he noticed Derek standing by his closet door, brooding.

“ _Fuck_. What did I tell you about creeping in my room? I thought you went home. What the hell?”

Derek just shrugged.

“You’re oblivious. You’ve been in here for ten minutes and it took you until now to notice me.”

Stiles was about to protest, but he nodded instead, unable to argue.

“Fine- but why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be running through the woods chasing deer and feeling the wind in your fur?”

Derek’s glare could kill a lesser man, but Stiles was just too tough (read: too stubborn) to be intimidated by it.

“Shut up, Stiles.”

Derek sighed, looking at the bag of peas that had settled near the door next to him.

“How’s your ankle?” Derek asked as he tossed the bag at Stiles.

Stiles shrugged, putting the bag back on his ankle.

“I’ve had worse.”

Derek nodded, already heading towards the window to leave.

“Stiles- just because you’re human doesn’t mean you’re not part of the pack. You’re important.”

He left before Stiles could respond, leaving the younger boy icing his ankle and wondering what the hell that meant.


End file.
